


Can I Have A Moment Before I Go

by cucumbersandwitches



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, F/M, Falling In Love, Kinda, Makeup Sex, New Year's Eve, bad breakups, but make it shirbert fanfic, falling back in love, that moment when you see your ex across the room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22939783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cucumbersandwitches/pseuds/cucumbersandwitches
Summary: you look like a movieyou sound like a songmy god, this reminds meof when we were young~‘I spoke to Gilbert.’‘Gilbert Blythe? Your Gilbert?’‘He's not mine anymore. And do you know any other Gilbert?’Cole shook his head with a chuckle. ‘God, where is he from? The 1800s? Tell me again why you dated someone who has the name of a grandfather?’Cole pretended to gag. Anne whacked him on the chest to get him to stop.‘He said he still loves me.’
Relationships: Cole Mackenzie & Anne Shirley, Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Ruby Gillis/Moody Spurgeon MacPherson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 119





	1. It's hard to admit that everything just takes me back to when you were there

Anne, in looking back the next morning, doesn’t remember why she agreed that going to a house party hosted by an old friend from high school was a good idea. She had better things to do than drink cheap beer and watch her childhood friends make out on the couch next to her, smelling strongly of whisky, sweat, rich perfume and regret. She would much rather have curled up with a book by the window sill, or as dull as it sounds, catch up on her assignments; and, now in the morning nursing a hangover, she agrees. With Diana next to her, dabbing on more blush, and Cole hollering from the other room, she hadn’t had any idea of the night that would pass. 

~

With a final brush of her lashes and a click of her heels, Anne grabbed her coat and leaned against the wall by the door, waiting for the knock that meant that Ruby was on the other side. The cold paint was smooth, and she drifted out to sea on a boat of her own dreams. Wistfully, she remembered all the people she is about to meet for the first time in years. Only a few from Avonlea had made it to Queens, and even fewer were in Toronto, but now Moody of all people was hosting a New Years party in his parents' house while they were out of town (like they were still teenagers with a curfew) and it seemed no one had turned the invite down. 

Her heart jolted as a bang erupted from the wood of the door and shook Anne’s bones. With a click, she undid the lock and allowed Ruby, done up in a pink dress short enough to attract just enough looks, to slip into the room hazy with the setting of the sun in the late afternoon. They shared a hug, and a smile before Diana emerged completed from the bathroom, Cole in tow. 

The train ride from where they were spending Christmas break at Aunt Josephine’s old Victorian row house in Summerville, to the suburban Mississauga was uneventful, if not a bit anxious filled. Ruby wasted time by listing through all the boys she now guessed would be ten times cuter than when they graduated, and Cole debated her on every one; deciding, without question that Charlie Solane would now look like a frog. It prompted a chuckle from Anne, who had fended off his advances for the latter half of senior year, was hoping just the same. 

Moody’s place was less bright and loud than Anne had expected. In movies, somehow teenagers have disco lights and surround speakers. The atmosphere was instead dusty and dim, faintly smelling of smoke and heavily of the taste of beer bought at the Costco nearby. The door was propped open with an empty six-pack, now just brown bottles and cardboard, so they simply walked in and joined the mass of people who were just beginning to discover themselves through alcohol. 

Diana, with a whisper the same volume as regular speech, informed Anne that she was getting drinks. Cole, on her other side, linked his arm with her’s and took her further into the dusk. She could have sworn, as Cole guided her to a quiet corner grabbing a couple of ciders on the way, and Ruby went to find the host, that out of the corner of her eye she saw something familiar. A mop of dark curly hair covering the face of a frame which leaned just out of view against a doorway. But it was only a second. Her brain, in the overwhelmed, post-breakup haze, could not admit that it might in any way be him. 

So, she focused on chatting with Cole and Charlie, who did indeed look a bit like a frog. His cheeks, in an odd way that went against what she knew of puberty, seemed to have grown, and his excessive drinking certainly did not help. And, when he did, at last, say she looked pretty tonight, all she gave him was a sarcastic smile before turning her back and finding Ruby, who had draped herself against Moody on the sofa. Anne decided that third-wheeling was better than whatever nonsense Charlie was spinning about his elusive internship at his father’s kombucha business. The Craigslist sofa enveloped her, with a musty smell that was faintly nostalgic. It was the same smell that the beds in the orphanage had, old and dusty. Ruby was giggling at something Moody must have said and the drink that Cole had gotten her was already tingling in her brain. 

~

And as her eyes darted around the room, a tree crashed down, thudding through her chest. His back, a wide plain of dark cotton. No one else heard the reality that hit her. The world around them paused, even if just for a millisecond as their eyes met. Then continued with a raucousness that startled her into averting her eyes and taking a long-overdue sip. She needed something stronger. 

She continued to sit there, not participating in the conversations around her. A part of her, the part still clinging to the past, was terrified. She hadn’t seen him since he left. She had blocked him on all social media, but only after he had blocked her. He had completely disappeared from her life, but here he was again, and all she had to cope was half a sickly sweet cider pumping through her veins. A sharp breath attempted to defog her head before she made her way through the crowd to find Diana and Cole. 

Rounding a final corner, now tipsy off the rest of the cider she chugged and the unknown shot of some burning liquid she had grabbed on the way, she found herself entirely alone in a room at the end of an extended hallway. She called her friend’s names, but to no avail. The door clicked shut behind her. In the reflection of a weathered mirror, Anne saw his hazel eyes for the second time boring into hers. She spun towards him, steadying herself on a battered dresser. A shivering heat coated her brain and abdomen. He was standing, there, his feet a foot from her’s, his back to the closed door. His hair was shorter. That is what Anne noticed first, she always had to force him to get it cut when it started to cover his ears. She found herself unable to form words. 

‘Hey, Carrots.’ 

He always said it so smugly, as if she should get mad at him but he knew she wouldn’t. She had to prevent her heart from melting, and her legs from carrying her into his arms again. That smirk and the straight jaw was a memory that broke down all the words she had used to remind herself what he had done. That she was broken, and that it was him that had done it. But now, as the golden sun cast her shadow across his chest, he was a hazy dream that she didn't want to wake up from. 

‘Last I heard you were in Trinidad.’ It could have been a question, but she didn't quite have the energy for it. Leaning against the doorway, he ducked his head as if caught in a lie. 

‘Im sorry Anne-girl, you deserve an explanation.’

‘I told you not to call me that. Your cute nicknames won't make me forget what happened.’ 

She had given him an opening for a cheap shot, but it was a test. A flicker emerged in the crinkle of his eyes, but it melted into empathy and deep-hearted guilt. 

‘Please Anne, just listen. Just for a minute.’

The desperation in his voice made her flinch. It sparked a gush of earnest sympathy she wished she could quell. She shouldn't let these feelings take over her again. 

‘I don't want any half-assed explanations, Gilbert. Just say you didn't want to be with me and go.’ She pushed past him harder than needed. He was warm. But unyielding. 

‘You must know that's not true.’ As much as she hated it, it made her pause in the doorway and that's the permission Gilbert needed to proceed.

‘I loved you, Anne, that hasn't changed. After-’ he took a breath. The weight of his feelings was nothing compared to what he said next. It seemed a miserable excuse. ‘I needed time after my father died. I was lost, and I was hoping being with you would help me move past it, but I didn't want to burden you with the pain. I left because I needed time to figure out what I wanted.’ 

He took a breath, stealing it from her very lungs. He steadied himself for the next part as Anne steeled herself, a protective measure to deflect the upcoming bullet from her heart.

‘And after a year working on a cruise ship, a broken-off engagement and hours of therapy, I have an internship at a clinic here in Toronto and a best friend who is like a brother to me _._ ’

It was out, hanging in the air now. He offers her a lopsided, tight-lipped, testing smile. 

_I miss you,_ is what he wanted to say.

‘Engaged.’ It's the word she latches onto. _Broken engagement._ He left her, fled to the Caribbean, and got engaged. What a dick. 

‘Yeah.’ Gilbert regrets bringing that up, ‘Her name was Winnie, and as terrible as it sounds, she father had connections with an internship program I wanted to join -’

‘So it was a business deal.’ Another statement Gilbert couldn't answer. 

‘What prevented you from marrying?’ It was a question this time, finally, and one he could answer. 

‘Just one thing.’ Her heart pumped her alcohol-infused blood even faster, shooting up to circle her brain in turmoil. 

‘I - I. Gil…’

‘I'm sorry, Anne. But it's the truth.’ 

He sounded defeated as he avoided her questioning gaze and slipped out of the room. It was as if the space that Anne was now left alone in was a vacuum, sucking the air out of her lungs and pressing painfully on her chest. 

~

It was Diana who found her, floundering like a fish desperate for the sea. 

‘Was that…’

‘Don't say his name. Please.’

A prickling headache sprouted in her temples. 

‘Let's get you some water.’ 

Anne was frustrated. Sat on the toilet, in the bright lights, she hated feeling so powerless and defeated. She should not have let a boy have such an effect on her. They had dated for a measly year in college, in which she met his late father once, and he had hung out with her friends only when she dragged him. The time simply wasn't right, or they weren't, or it never should have happened. But that year still possessed a magical, shiny glaze to it. He bought her flowers and cooked breakfast. She painted landscapes and hung them in his dorm room, or texted him daily pictures of golden retrievers. 

Anne was never one to subscribe to societal views of anything. But she was glad that it was tonight that they reunited. Her hair was styled in something other than her normal braids and she was wearing a low cut top she would never wear in daylight. Perhaps a bit of offside revenge flaunting would not go amiss. Sweeping a finger under her eyes and gulping down the rest of the water Diana had gotten, she dragged her by the arm onto the makeshift dance floor in Moody’s living room. Anne didn't recognize the song, but the fuzzing speakers were just loud enough to drown her melancholy. This was what she came for, a night of booze, friends and dancing like nobody's watching. 

She felt his eyes on her. He danced with a familiar group, out of the corner of her eye. His hair bounced with each jump and step. Simply forgetting didn't hide the tender shiver from her bones, the goosebumps trembled despite the heat of her face. Her feet ached, the heels were a bad choice. She stumbled her way outside. The water may have been followed by more vodka. 

~

Luckily, Cole was outside. Unfortunately, he had ideas. 

‘I think a random hookup might clear your head.’

Anne rolled her eyes. ‘Firstly, you know I'm not into that, and secondly, it wouldn't be random. I've known everybody here since I was little. But you go ahead, your one semester doesn't really count when the only person you talked to was me.’ 

Anne didn't mean to say it so bitterly. 

‘Sheesh, calm down.’

Anne came to lean against the brick exterior with him. Her head lolled to rest on his shoulder. 

‘I spoke to Gilbert.’

‘Gilbert Blythe? Your Gilbert?’

‘He's not mine anymore. And do you know any other Gilbert?’

Cole shook his head with a chuckle. ‘God, where is he from? The 1800s? Tell me again why you dated someone who has the name of a grandfather?’ 

Cole pretended to gag. Anne whacked him on the chest to get him to stop. 

‘He said he still loves me.’

She mumbled it, half under her breath. She didn't really want Cole to hear. It's hard to admit out loud. 

‘He what?’

Anne found she had no choice but to continue. ‘He went to Trinidad, almost had a marriage of convenience, broke it off because of me, and moved back to Toronto.’

‘Wait, wait. You need to let me process this.’ Cole sighed. ‘How the hell did this just come up?’

‘I don't even know, I wasn't really present. After he said he loved me, I just kind of…’

Silence steeped for half a minute. Anne could hear the mechanisms in Cole’s head spinning. 

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I have no idea. Currently, I'm thinking of continuing my tactic of ignoring the problem until it goes away.’

‘That doesn't work with him very well, from my experience.’

‘Well, he's not really offering me an apple this time.’ It's sarcastic but it's true. Anne wishes it was still an apple. 

‘And you thankfully don't have a big ass textbook to hit him with when _he was just trying to be polite.’_

‘You weren't even there, Cole.’ She reshuffles. Tucking herself further against the steady rise and fall of his torso. 

**‘** Come on, let's get you inside. It's getting cold.’

~

She clocks him over by the television in the corner. He is alone, with a red solo cup clutched between his thumb and index finger, dangling. She lets go of Cole, her conversation with him flying out the window shortly after. As she gets closer, her hips swing and the look in his eyes is magnetic. The night is catching up to her.

Anne ponders that Cole had been right. Sex was the answer. But it could also resolve all this awkwardness with Gilbert. One night, of tenuous relation, then it would all be gone. She would leave as soon as the light came back. Just one more time and she would get him out of her system. At least that's what the romcoms suggested. She ignored all the endings. They were no use to her now. She was not going to just give in when she has been fighting him for so long. 

Her heels click faster until he begins to meet her halfway. She licks her lips. Between her thighs, a heat begins to burn. 

  
  



	2. 'Cause you feel like home, you're like a dream come true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year changes, along with other things,  
> Despite some well-intending obstacles.

The morning after the night before dawns. Crisp and bright. Anne, with a dizzying headache, finds herself under sheets she has never laid eyes upon before, and the greasy smell of frying meat wafting from somewhere in the unfamiliar, sparsely decorated apartment. Looking out the window to the left of the bed, the skyline against the water sirs at her imagination. She invents an alternate world, where she chose to remain in Toronto and did not escape back to Charlottetown for the comfort of her long-forgotten friends. Except for Gilbert, she had never really had a life in the dense urban landscape. The cliffs jutting over the seashore and the bluebelled forests of P.E.I always produced a calming effect that the concrete jungle lacked. Anne is lost in her dreamland. 

It is a myriad of things that help Anne come into awareness of her surroundings. Perhaps it’s that with a stretch, the events of last night tumble back into her memory, or simply the fact that one Gilbert Blythe, dressed only in a pair of sweats, enters the room. 

~

Gilbert, in the complete opposite of what anyone would have guessed from his teasing, charming nature, didn’t get out to parties much. His medical studies didn't leave time for a social life. His days were spent at Dr Ward’s trying not to faint every time he had to use a needle. Which working with a family doctor happens daily. 

However, Moody was his best friend in high school, even if Gilbert became a loner towards the end and the texts were not frequent enough to be classed as ‘keeping in touch’. His father’s health was declining and his optimism towards Anne and the prospects of a relationship diminished with every awkward flirty remark from Charlie. He took this as a singular opportunity to reunite with people who he hadn't heard from in years, and thus hopefully would not know of the events since. Only Anne and her circle would know, and he would be sure to avoid them. 

But then she walked in, arm in arm with her friends with a cautious smile on her face, and Gilbert knew it would be difficult to ignore her. 

~

Instead, he found himself drawn to her. Tugged like a magnet. His orbit around her seized when she entered the house again, he came crashing into her atmosphere. There was a look in her eye that signalled something that had long dwelled deep inside him. With each step, each sway of her hips, it bubbled higher. Earlier in the evening, he had been a gentleman and laid it all out before her. But now was not the time for civil debates. 

Her hands found his hair, and twisted, forcing his lips down to hers. With an open mouth and closed eyes, he locked himself into her. They can never quite part. The darkness hide their pleasure better than the light, the groans drowned by the music. They breathed only when need be. She was pressed, every hot inch of clothed skin, against him. Pulsing, and twisting with arms around her waist, her’s tugged him down. He was thrown off balance by the very movement of her lips. He was surfeited by the taste, the dip of her tongue, and smooth minty lip balm. 

She sucked on his lower lip, scraping her teeth slightly as she pulled away. With a grunt, he located the front door and manoeuvred Anne outside, nipping at her neck. Out onto the porch, the chill was unpreventable. The snow from the night before was slush, and the icicles dripped in inconsistent patterns. The cold dampened their hunger. At last, they broke away and came to terms with what they had done.

‘One more minute until midnight!’ Someone yelled from inside. 

As if repelled, terrified, they stepped away. The music was dim, but flooded the unsettled hush, as loud as his heartbeat thumped in his ear. The street lights flickered behind her, casting a halo around Anne as they stayed standing across from each other in the stillness of the night. Her hands fiddled with the bottom of her skirt, he snuck a glance at her lips. She followed his gaze. Her cheeks were rosy, as was the tip of her freckled nose. Inside, their friends started counting down. 

‘TEN!’

He offered her a bashful smile as if it could apologize for everything that had come before. All he had wanted, in their time apart, was to apologize. The second he left, the mistake was a neon sign that flickered and wouldn't quite his sight. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. 

‘NINE!’

It was getting louder. The TV was turned up and he could hear the presenters squeaky voice bounce around. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her lips felt numb. She traced the sensation back, to when they first collided. The choice was muddled, the decision and reason hazy. She was still groggy from the after-effects. 

‘EIGHT!’

The silence was thick and carried a weight that was just begging to be broken. Slapped into sanity, like a hysterical woman in black and white movies. 

‘I’m sorry, Anne.’

‘SEVEN!’

She chewed on her lip, deciding whether he deserved a response. Her head spiralled as the countdown continued. If Diana was here she would do what she always did when Anne had the urge to call him, drunk, or even startlingly sober. She couldn't quite let him go. And perhaps she was wrong to do so, or maybe this was the universe letting them know that it was now the right time. This time there would be no petty fights that her stubbornness wouldn't let her loose, and Gilbert wouldn't be so cocky and jealous. There would be no Roy or Christine to confuse their feelings. Roy had turned out to be a snob that showed her that her ideals had been skewed. He was only a rebound anyway. 

‘ONE!’

She decided. If she liked a boy, even loved him, why could she not kiss him? Technically, she already had. He made her giddy. With a stride, as the world stilled and time worked its magic and the future became the past, they arranged themselves into perfect shapes. The wind whipped them, and they clutched tighter, searching for warmth. Her parka was nonexistent and his sweater only kept them further apart. It was tender that time, but swift. It was not drawn out necessarily. It was a kiss that accepted that there is more to come, that they could take their time and wait. Their lips brushed, and locked, and danced the waltz.

Then they let go, still close. Harmonized, there was no need for words. 

The door shuttered, slamming and creaking in the wind. They glanced, giving it a second of unwelcome distraction. Diana walked out, confusion and dread on her face plainly. She didn't mask her feelings when it came to this. She wanted Anne to see the disapproval, and Gilbert to notice the disgust. Anne backed away and it was Gilbert’s turn to add confusion to his repertoire. His brows gave their telltale scrunch and Diana answered with a roll of her eyes. 

‘Come on, Anne, your drunk. Let's get you home.’ It was firm, in a motherly way. 

Anne stumbled after her, dragged by her elbow, inside to fetch her coat. She couldn't look back. 

‘Diana, let go! Let me explain.’

Diana allowed herself a moment to pause. ‘Spill. I'd love to hear your excuse as to why you were kissing a boy that made you miserable. I had to go through you like that, I took care of you, but then you just ran right back to the person that hurt you.’

Anne could feel her tears form and hang, suspended as she attempted to will them away. With one blink they threatened to slip over the edge, and then she would be lost. It was a horrible feeling, seeing your best friend hurt and insulted by something you did, while deep down you knew that it was the right thing. Diana may be looking out for her mental health and her own sanity, but Anne's very bones quivered and queried with restlessness. Gilbert slipped back inside, earnest with his hands tucked deep in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, still braced against the cold. 

‘Diana-’

‘You will thank me in the morning.’ She angled her body so that Anne couldn't see him anymore. 

‘No, you don't understand… I- I'm not drunk.’

‘Anne, you are most definitely drunk. You are the most lightweight person I know. Let me call you a cab.’

‘But- but Diana.’ She stumbled a bit, the alcohol was catching up to her, ‘Gilbert.’

She whined it, like she was five and he was a doll she missed playing with or an ice cream cone she could have. 

‘Diana, I love him.’

‘What?’

‘I really, truly, am in love with Gilbert Blythe. I know I am.’ Her voice broke at the end, and left her a blubbering mess as Diana ushered into the bathroom they were in earlier. 

‘Anne-’ 

‘Diana, I've been so blind. I've loved him this whole time.’ 

Diana sighed. There was no use stopping her romantic soul. Perhaps her relationship with Jerry had not worked out, but she wouldn't be the one that stopped Anne and Gilbert. She had known in her heart of hearts that they were meant for each other. She just didn't want it to happen like this. 

‘Go Anne. Go find him. Go tell him.’ 

Anne only cried more, thanking and hugging, before exiting the bright lights. She disappeared into the crowd. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I thought this would just be a two-part little fic on the side, but it has gotten away from me.  
> Expect a new chapter soon. 
> 
> Thank you everyone you has commented and left kudos. You make my day extra special and motivate me to keep writing. xxx


	3. A part of me keeps holding on just in case it hasn't gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne travels in the middle of the night to catch Gilbert and confess.

Gilbert walks through the doorway, Anne's eyes on him, tracing his figure as it moves closer. It has a weight, that uncertainty that presses between them as he stops at the foot of the bed. She props herself up at the head with pillows. Neither wishes to speak first. 

‘Morning.’ He tests. 

Last night, in the security of a tipsy blur, she told him she still loved him. And they had kissed so hard he couldn't breathe. The night was not lost on him, nor were the things he said. But Gilbert still hesitates. His relationship with Anne had never been clear cut, it didn't stick to labels and defied any attempt to control it. He had accepted that long ago. So, while he has loved her since she cracked her phone in an attempt to throw it at his head in the seventh grade, Anne’s love for him scares Gilbert. Because he knows that it means something far greater than his confession. Love is a precious gift she bestows. And even once he had her heart, he managed to break it. So, of course, he is cautious. 

‘Morning, Gil.’

That nickname gives him the okay to proceed. _I love you, Gil._ It signals a bridge, an olive branch with the memories it triggers. Road trips across the country in the summer, with cheesy pop songs and those words on her lips. Or Christmas break when she first said it, bold and spontaneous. Because she had finally accepted how she felt and couldn't contain it anymore. It was a constant trickle, a waterfall that provided adoration with every syllable. He answers in kind. 

‘Anne-girl.’ It's husky and followed by a sigh of devastating thankfulness. He comes to sit on the edge of the bed, a bit self-conscious still. But she gives him no reason to be. With her hair back in its signature braids and freckles across her skin, she tenderly kisses his dread away. Her eyes come into focus as she pulls away. 

‘It’s ok, Gil. I don’t know what to do either.’

She says it with a candid smile. A bright one of puppies and sunflower fields. It warms up the room. He relaxes. 

‘Thank God.’ 

~

Anne made her way to the closest major road. It was halfway to one in the morning, the street was beginning to fill with traffic again as waves of drunk college students stumbled home. She spotted a vacant taxi, one of the few on the road to begin with. It pulled up briskly and moved again as soon as she slammed the door behind her. She jerked back into the seat. 

She gave him the address, hoping she had enough cash to get her into downtown Toronto. She knew that Gilbert must have driven home, having nursed that one beer all night. She barged in on Ruby and Moody in a closet making out in order to get his address, so this had better be worth it. Anne was a wild card with a feisty personality and enough alcohol in her blood to numb any warnings. 

The CN Tower came into view, and the lake reflected the lights of the city. The highways stretched over her head on concrete stilts. Different echoes of electronic music came from the buildings dressed with neon and flashing lights. They flew past her eyes, a blur. The taxi driver was reckless and this one time she enjoyed the feeling. It burned in her, as it always had, a feeling of defiance and courage. The night had changed everything, and in a few minutes, she would learn if it is for the better. That anxiety spread and settled in her bones, a reminder of the intensity, the importance of this night. 

The driver told her when he turned onto the street, and then again when they were out front. Her courage began to fail her once she stepped out of the comfort of the car. Now she was left to her own devices on an empty street in a neighbourhood she had never set foot in before. There were grey buildings shooting up around her, with dots of lit windows, the rest stark blue and glistening. She pulled out her phone and called his number, hoping the one saved was still the same. It only rang twice before he picked up. 

‘Anne?’

‘Hi.’

‘What is it?’

‘Um..’

‘You called me, Anne.’

‘I know, I-I just…’

She saw a light switch on, up four floors, three to the left. 

‘I'm outside.’ She blurted.

‘Okay?’ he asked cautiously. ‘Where?’

‘Here, outside on the street, in whatever the hell this place is. North York, or CityPlace I'm guessing, but it could just as easily be Cabbagetown for all I know. I have no idea.’ She was rambling, circling a subject he was just beginning to grasp. 

‘You're outside my apartment?’

She paused, suddenly aware of the ridiculousness of the situation.

‘Yes.’ she conceded.

‘I'll be down in a second.’

Then the call dropped. 

~

He found her in the enduring glow of the cityscape. The gold and blue light reflected and cut across her face, slipping through her auburn hair. Gilbert pondered what got him there, what infinite series of decisions led to that harrowingly beautiful moment when the woman he loved marched towards him with a perfect sincerity that set the night aflame. 

‘We really are horrible at timings and communication.’ Anne acknowledged as she met him in the middle. 

Recreating every cliche moment in romance movies, they gazed at each other in the chill of the night, illuminated by light. He smirked down at her, a glint of mischief in his eye. She knew what he was going to say and allowed him, their endless contradictions and childhood stubbornness slipping out. 

‘I believe it's destiny.’ Gilbert replied matter of factly, a tight, self-righteous smile playing on his lips. While it may or not be true, he took the opposite opinion to see the pink of her cheeks underneath the freckles. An overwhelming desire to kiss him came over Anne as his eyebrows quirked. Their heads drifted together. 

‘Or a coincidence.’ Anne breathed tauntingly, just as Gilbert’s nose began to brush her’s. He groaned and it sent a tingle rushing through her body, her heartbeat low in her stomach as their eyes met again. 

He set his jaw firmly, telling her that it can't be. 

He was serious and she was not.

Anne shoved him in the shoulder, tired by their endless need to have the last word. He hardly moved, standing like a boulder against her wind of denial. He beat against the impasse, the great heaping uncertainty and worriment that held her back. 

‘So, tell me, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?’

‘I don't know, Gilbert,’ she replied, speaking to him and the great universe beyond. ‘You may call it cosmic destiny that we found each other. But all I know is that I love you and no romance novel, or tragic love poem will ever compare to the feeling that has absolutely overcome every single other emotion in me.’ As she spoke, the great truths came forth and greeted her in turn. Life settled around her and everything she had denied came slipping out without second thought. ‘I don't think I ever truly hated you. I was just frustrated that I couldn't love you as much as I wanted. I was angry that I loved you as much as I did. All that needless resentment may have well been a terrible attempt to gain your attention. All I have ever done since I met you, Gilbert, was for you. Every breath, every insult. But it was our own tragic romance, and I wouldn't change it for the world.’

She was crying by the end. They stood in stunned silence. It settled in Gilbert’s chest, that heavy load she had given her. It felt like the moment when he had seen her across the room. A startle that echoed in his ribcage and fluttered in the edge of his vision. The sensations overcome by the intimacy of it all, her willingness to open up her heart to him, to allow him to see the truth; that all this time, through all these misunderstandings, all their ups and downs, she had loved him with the same continuous beating of her heart as he loved her. 

The air tingled around them as their noses brushed once again, and he dipped his chin to connect his mouth to hers. Anne was warm with the knowledge that this was their happy ending. That the neverending embrace, the constant stroke of Gilbert’s hand in her hair, the caress of their lips in unison; it signified a better future. One where they fought and yelled and exclaimed that they hated each other as much as ever. One where, in the end, love was at the centre. 

  
  



End file.
